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FROM HOUDO"N-S BL'ST 



WASHINGTON: 



A DRAMA, IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY 



MARTIN F. TUPPER, 

D.C.L., Oxford; and F.R.S-^ 

Author of Provei'hi^ P}ii£o$«phy, (^ifrea, Ralevjh, 
Crock of Gold, <fcc., &c. 



Written for the Centenary of American Independence in 
honour of its founder. Not yet published in England. 



NEW YORK: 

JAMES MILLER, PUBLISHER. 

1876. 






^GL. 1»b,Soo 



lirOTICE, 



This Play will be read in pulDlic by the author during 
his present visit to America. 

Condensation of the incidents of a lifetime within the 
limits of an hour or two needs must involve leaps be- 
tween act and act, and gaps from scene to scene; but it is 
hoped nevertheless that the narration floAvs on naturally. 
My work has been a very rapid labour of love, but still a 
labour, and no indolent outpouring of extemporary fan- 
cies; seeing there will be found due historical authority for 
most of the incidents, and a fair amount of truthful con- 
sistency pervading all the characters ; everywhere, an in- 
telligent auditor, who is conversant with "Washington and 
his times, will detect touches of quotation from celebrated 
speeches, and allusions to famous anecdotes. It will be 
remembered that biogi-aphers sometimes contradict each 
other (indeed a single one would always be sufficient, if 



4 NOTICE. 

his facts were undisputed), and that the writer of a play 
from such materials must select tlie most picturesque 
points and make the best of them. 

Having all through my life had an honest admiration 
for George Washington [in a A'ery early book of mine, 
"The Modern Pyramid," he is one of my "Worthiest of 
Mankind"], I rejoice in the chance of making a mono- 
gram of his noble life: and my own well-known inter- 
national sentiments now for nearly half a century, dating 
as they do ancestrally from much older times, will be a 
good excuse, if such be needed, for producing this Play 
on the Centenary of American Independence. 

Appropriate music for the overture and Entr'actes, if 
by possibility it comes to be dramatically represented, 
might be some well-managed olio of international tunes, 
arranged to be in keeping with the libretto of each act; 
and the dresses must of course be of the period. Wash- 
ington as President (act 1 sc. 2) first appears in his con- 
ventional black velvet, and the deputies in court dress. 
Afterwards his changes will be the dress and undress 
uniforms of an American General in 1776. 

The play being a short one, and every line well con- 
sidered, the author hopes it will be acted as written, 
without excisions or insertions. 

It may be as well to state with respect to the national 



NOTICE. 5 

flag (act 2 sc. 3), that the incident at Mount Vernon oc- 
curred to myself, and that I long after verified the matter 
at Herald's College: in May, 1851, I announced it to the 
Historical Society at Baltimore, Avho paid me the compli- 
ment of their diploma thereupon, after a public dinner, 
with Mr. Kennedy as chairman, and Sir 'Henry Buhver 
and the present writer as his sujiports. Washington's 
original coat — as explained by Franklin — can be coiiied 
from Herald's College and possessed b}' any one for a 
small fee: an engraving thereof is on the outer title of 
this Plaj'. 

About the quasi-Corday incident, I have only invented 
as to sex; for \Yashington's life was more than once at- 
tempted, and he excused the cul])rits. It was also per- 
missible for me to suppose his earliest love — the un- 
known "lowland beauty" — to have been Arnold's sister; 
and I may add that it is not only likelihood but truth, 
that Washington's wife frequently accompanied him in 
his campaigns, especially at Valley Forge. 

Some knowledge of the subject is presupposed in a dis- 
cerning and enlightened audience on either side of the 
Atlantic. I would not weight the action of the play witli 
more than could be helped of explanatory matter, nor 
overlay its incidents with the petty and prosaic details ui 
conflicting testimony. It may be as well to state that, 



h NOTICE. 

although I have lately heard of several plays on the 
great name "Washington," I have seen none of them; 
if any similarities are perceiDtible, they are accidental, 
and duo probably to an honest use of the like materials 
by the several authors : history must not be originally in- 
vented. 

With this preface, Reader, I commend my drama of 
"Washington" to your favour. 

/MARTm F. TUPPER. 
Albuby, 1875. 




CHAKACTERS. 

Washington. 

Benjamin Fkanklin. 

Patrick Henry. 

John Adams. 

Benedict Arnold, the traitor. 

Marquis La Fayette. 

Major Andre, the spy. 

Corporal Thompson. 

Deacon Eldad. 

Nathan, a Quaker. 

Bishop, Washington's Bodyservant. 

Timothy. 

Martha Washington. 

Mary Arnold. 

Rachel, her maid. 



WASHIITGTOK 



ACT 1. 

Scene 1. — The Quay at Boston ; enter at opposite points 
Deacon Eldad, and Nathan, with others. 

Nathan. 

Is he come back? who knowethV and what tidings? 

Eldad. 
One question at a time, friend: shrewd Ben Franklin 
Came by this packet, — and the Morning Star 
They say had full seven weeks of it, for storms, 
And calms, and contrary winds, — but as to news 
Nothing known yetawhile: he holds his tongue, 
That wise old proverb-monger, for he thinks 
' ' Least said is soonest mended ; ' ' which I doubt, 
For if one would expound, — 

Nathan. 

But touching England? 
What message is brought back from our hard mother? 
Who knoweth ? guesseth aught ? 

9 



10 WASHINGTON. 

Eldad. 

Patience awhile: 
To-day the Congress meets ; we shall soon hear 
How Franklin sped before the King in Council, 

(enter Arnold) 

And with what favour or what bitter speech 
Old England greets her ancient colonies, — 

Nathan. 
Pray heaven she speak us fair, — 

Arnold. 
By heaven, she'd better! 
Or from the fists of her own freeborn sons 
She shall be taught that tyrants cannot rule them: 
What ? shall our mother, — call her step-mother, — 
Tax us against our wills, strangle our trade. 
Force on us reams of her extortionate stamps, 
Shut up our chapels and our printing presses. 
Make laws to bind us (no leave asked or given), 
Set judges over us, but we to pay, 
Deny us jury-trial, that old free right. 
Quarter an army here at our own cost. 
To keep us down in case we dared to rise, — 
By heaven ! but England shall deal thus no longer! 

Nathan. 
Stranger, our King is just, ay generous. 
Can do no wrong, nor will it: and his rights. 
Taxing, protecting, governing, and binding, 
May not be touched — as of the Lord's Anointed. 



WASHINGTON. 11 

Arnold. 
A suffering people, not their somewhile tyrant, 
Such be the Lord's anointed! 

Eldad. 

Yet we, friend, 
Be subjects still, and must obey the laws, — 
For look you — 

Arxold. 
Hold ! — obey them, if we make them; 
Not else: if made against our wills, or worse 
AVithout our freeborn voices in contempt. 
They are no laws to us; subjects, not slaves, 
His Majesty's right loyal colonists 
(Be it as you will) — yet independent, free, 
Safe to give all due honour, homage, custom, 
But scorning to be mulcted in our right, — 

Nathan. 
And wouldst thou have us rebels for such right? 
If right it be for men to rule themselves. 

Arnold. 
Predestined slave I a man is not a man 
Who suffers any rule that thwarts his will. 
Those who let others govern as they please, 
Without the votes of freemen freely given, 
Are but the meanest cowards: none such here. 

Eldad. 
This smells like treason, sir, for — 



12 WASHINGTON. 

Arnold. 
Treason be it ! 
If George of England steals the rights of man, 
George of America shall win them back. 
Ay, let the King, if he must mutter thunders, 
Beware lest our Ben Franklin draw down lightning, 
And such a storm be raised shall split the globe, 
Riving it that the two halves stand apart. 

Nathan. 

Forefend that evil day. 

Arnold. 

No ! let it come ! 
Our millions must be free; it is high time; 
Too long has England drained us well nigh dry, 
Her milch-kine colonists, and worse than so. 
Sucking our lifeblood with her vampyre lips, — 
Then welcome Revolution ! 

Nathan. 

That were ruin, 
Spoiling all gainful commerce every way; 
What though some liberties be bound, what if 
The candles of some consciences are dimmed? 
We still may light the lamps of industry 
And earn by merchandize all man can want; 
I'm not for war, — nor freedom, meaning war, 
Nor any strife, nor patriotism, — 

Arnold. 

Shame ! 
Shame on your miserable peacemongeringl 



WASHINGTON. 13 

We must light torches of a fiercer sort 
Than those dull office lamps of industry; 
Torches to blaze and burn, quenched but by blood, 
If any dare to touch our liberties, — 

(enter Mary Arnold) 

How now, my sister ? 

Mary Arnold. 

Benedict, I ran 
To tell you the sad news, thatlVIajor Andre 
— So soon to be your brother and my husband, — 
Has heard, and all too truly; peace and war 
Hung in the balances, — and peace is down. 

Arnold. 
Then Andre is my foe, — and must be yours ! — 
A feathered gallant in the tyrant's camp 
Can claim no brotherhood with me — or you — 
From this day you renounce him ! 

Mary Arnold. 

Never, never! 
Benedict, you were always my fierce brother 
Even from the day since we were both left orphans; 
Yet was I plighted with your given good leave 
To mine own loved John Andre, months agone. 
And none shall part us now ! for life, for death, 
Mary and John are wedded as one spirit ! 

Arnold. 
Tut, girl ! you must forget him. 



14 WASHINGTON. 

Mary. 

Benedict, 
My brother, be more merciful; thou knowest 
I cannot, dare not stand against thy will, — 
I always feel its power wrestling me down, 
Yet, leave my heart its treasure ! 

Arnold. 
Silly child, 
I too can rave — more sternly — never, never ! 
If Major Andre fights on England's 'side, 
He bursts the bond between us. Go, forget him, — 
You shall not leave my house. Obey my will. 

(Some run, in) (exit Mary.) 

Ho ! Citizens : is it all blurted out ? 
Is the sword drawn, to strike for liberty? 
Hurrah for the good news ! Come, let us haste 
On to this Congress, our new league the States 
Headed by Washington, to hear what Franklin 
Brings us from hostile England as our envoy. 



Scene 2. — Washington in Council: deputies sitting 
round: some citizens grouped heliind. 

Washington. 
Statesmen and brothers, we are met this day 
Solemnly to i^roclaim our rights and wrongs, 
Duteously in sober wisdom to decide. 
And firmly with all promptitude to act 



WASHINGTON. 15 

For peace or war, as Providence may will. 
Our messenger from England, Benjamin Franklin, 
Awaits your bidding, to make known to us 
What the King chooses for us — and himself. 

(Enter Franklin. The?/ shout) 
Welcome, good brother! welcome, Benjamin Franklin! 

Franklin. 
Worshipful President, and worthy Statesmen, 
When, as the thirteen colonies resolved, 
I stood your delegate and deputy 
To plead our rights before King George in council, 
I had small hope — it scarce was worth a fear, — 
That minister or King would favour us. 
Lord North was proud and cold and reticent, 
The King — to speak out plainly — obstinate, 
Grenville, and Grafton too, seemed full of scorn 
At parleying with (for so they called us) traitors ; 
And though great Chatham spoke up nobly for us 
As injured and unhappy and traduced, 
Stoutly protesting how we well deserved 
For patient patriotism to that hour 
To hold all right God giveth unto man 
Self-government and natural liberties 
Of conscience, speech, religion, trade, all free. 
Glad that we stood for them; though Edmund Burke 
Made the assembled council tremble and thrill 
When from his fervid heart and eloquent tongue 
Our wrongs were poured before them; and though 
Barre 



16 WASHINGTON. 

Flashed Junius-fire from out his cunning eyes 

AVhilst he denounced and lashed with irony 

The placemen and the pensioners, who dared 

To play the tyrant over us, — all was vain, 

Our cause, I saw it at once, had been prejudged; 

The die was cast; they flung my pleas aside, 

They scoffed at protestation, railed at us, 

As runaway emigi-ants, adventurers, 

Nay, some (they sneered) convicted criminals, 

Deserters out of bounds, plantation serfs, 

His Majesty's own property forsooth, 

Born but for tribute and to render dues : 

Thus did they taunt us: — but I answered them; 

That we were now three million honest men 

Freeborn, and claiming liberty as right; 

We had gi"own strong in our Columbian home; 

And would not tolerate praetorian guards 

To keep us prisoners, ay, and feed on us; 

I said we hated priest-craft, and would none 

Of State religion, and its hierarchy, 

We would have none of foreign laws or judges 

Or taskmaster officials grinding us 

By tyrannous taxation everywhere, — 

I told them we denounced, renounced all these, 

And claimed, though loyal still, self-government. 

Yet all fell through ; an utter chaos of failure 

Seemed to crash round me, like a shattered world ; 

And then I felt much as that self-strong man, 

Horace's, you remember, — who defies 

As you, with me, defy the thunderbolt 

Even of tyrannic Jove himself : alone, 



WASHINGTON. 17 

In the calm majesty of self-respect, 
I thus threw down your gage of Independence, 
And, full free conduct granted, came away 
Pledged, like yourselves, a rebel for the right! 

{The Council cheer him} 

Bravo, great Franklin, — bravely spoken, brother. 

Washington. 

Statesmen, we all approve and countersign 

The noble words and acts of Benjamin Franklin ; 

Your votes by acclamation. 

{They shout) 
All, all, aU! 

Washington. 

So then in sorrow, with no brutish joy 
No Sea-king's love of fighting, but in view 
Of all the horrid front of civil war, 
Protesting but its sad necessity. 
We turn and face the tyrant ; close our ports 
Against his shipping, flinging overboard 
His cargoes rather than pay tax for them, 
Blockade his troops, self-i:)risoned in our forts, 
Proclaiming war against the enemy, 
And stand up strong before the world of men 
Right glad with us to hail our independence 
Thirteen as one, these new United States, 
Determined to live free, — if not, to die! 
The legend of our old alarum bell 



18 WASHINGTON. 

Inscribed around its rim is then prophetic, — 
*' Proclaim ye liberty throughout the land, 
' ' Freedom to all the inhabitants thereof ! 

(^The group of citizens in the rear of the Council cheer and 
hurrah ; outside, a great shouting and ringing of hells 
and firing cannon^ ^c. The deputies^ saluting Wash- 
ington, leave him alone, — he speaks) 

Thus, England, we must break away from thee : 
My father's home for full four hundi'ed years 
Or ever we came here a century back, 
Must be renounced for ever: 

Be it so. — 
If in this struggle I win the glorious prize 
Our people's freedom to the end of time 
A nation that shall overflow the globe 
Making this hemisphere the fountain-head, — 
Lo what a Pisgah-view to one who stands 
The Father of his country, to all ages 
Living in them revered : — but if I lose; 
How swift and terrible the penalties ! 
The vast estates my honoured father left me 
Forfeited, my rich revenues by marriage 
Confiscate, and that best-loved wife a beggar, — 
While for myself the traitor's hideous doom, 
Hanged, drawn and quartered! — what a fearful price 
For the mere strife to conquer liberty : 
Yet must I dare it all, ev^en that shame 
For Liberty, for glorious Liberty ! 
The sword is drawn, the die of fate is cast; 



WASHINGTON. 19 

Liberty shall be conquered if I live, 
And if I die, for others let me die 
In their just cause of freedom : be the past 
Wiped out as dead, — the present, bloody effort, 
The future dark as night. But — what of duty, 
"What of obedience, M'hat of just affection? 
Are these all sure and safe on freedom's side ? 
Can I abjure my country, and my King, 
Nor feel a parricide against a mother ? — 
Mother ? yet there are seen some so-called mothers 
Unmotherly, harsh-featured, heavy-handed. 
The callous and hard-hearted sort, in whom 
Maternal instinct is all dead, while those 
Counted her children, driven from hearth and home 
"Can no more call her blessed ! Mother ? well — 
If she neglects to teach and train her sons. 
Crushes their energies for selfish gain. 
Makes them her serfs and drudges, keeps them down 
Though they are grown, fullfledged for liberty. 
When freedom is their right, — is this a mother 
To taunt me with ingratitude, or claim 
Parental honour? — No ! King George's England 
Has shown small mercy to her far-off sons 
Exiled for conscience sake in evil days ; 
And we are still fallen on days as evil 
Tyrannically taxed, straitened, kept down, 
Treated like children, worse, like slaves ! — O soul. 
Pray hard for better times ! May some glad change 
(Haply long hence — perhaps a hundred years, — 
For nations move but slowly) yet find England 
Yearning upon America her son 



20 



WASHINGTON. 



Returned to love and bless her ; thanking Heaven, 
Whose overruling wisdom ordereth all things, 
Making man's MTath work the good will of God, 
That these twin giant peoples linked together 
Shall hold both hemispheres in fee between them, 
Makmg the world thek one imperial realm ! 




WASHINGTON. 21 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. — A Street in Philadelphia. 

[Enter Timothy, meeting Eld ad and Nathan.] 

Timothy. 

What of the war up North, good Deacon Eldad. 

Eldad. 
It's well begun, friend; and — 

Timothy. 

Good, — well begun, — 
So says poor Richard, well begun, half done. 

Eldad. 
Don't you believe it : never a proverb yet 
But it's as easily twisted on itself 
As any Jonah's gourd, — lo— hearken now. 
Rise with the lark and lie down with the lamb, — 
Lambs are asleep at noon when the lark rockets ; 
Do everything to-day and not to-morrow, — 
As if you wouldn't be wiser by to-morrow 
For knowing surely what to-day brings forth ; 
The early bird gathers the worm, — but then 
That earlier worm were better far abed, — 

Timothy. 
Well, Deacon, don't be tedious, — how's the war? 



22 WASHINGTON. 

Eldad. 

Friend, I must end my homily on beginnings: 
It is a simple business to begin; 
But to go on, and on, and persevere 
Wrestling down Amaleks, and fording Jordans, 
And wandering wearily the sandy flats 
Of some hot wilderness, not half way yet, 
Oh, not half midway yet, — here is the toil, 
I tell you — 

Timothy. 
Well but. Deacon, how's the war? 

Eldad. 
It's well begun, I grant it, w-ell begun ; 
Something is done, though much remains to do, 
And thus — 

[Enter John Adams.] 
Timothy to John Adams. 
From Boston, sir? how goes the war? 

John Adams. 
Bravely : at Lexington first blood was drawn; 
Pitcairn attacked us ; but we answered him 
So stoutly, that we drove him for six miles 
(He thrice our force and we undisciplined) 
Hunting him to his ships at Charlestown Neck, 
Where he took shelter with his grenadiers, 
Leaving the victory ours. Massachusetts 
Flung out the watchword ' Death or Liberty ' 
And everywhere the beacons blazed defiance 



WASHINGTON. 23 

From State to State through thirteen colonies: 
Then the great giant woke, and stood up strong: 
A mighty people flaming red with rage. 
Gathered by drum and trumpet everywhere: 
The steeples clashed to arms, — even pious preachers 
Stood on their pulpit stairs, calling to arms; 
The teamster left his ploughshare in the furrow 
And galloped with his horses to the war, — 
The yeoman tore his rifle from its case, 
The draper leapt across his counter straight 
Eager to fight for freedom ; even women 
Swarmed in as volunteers, and very children 
Shouldered the muskets they could scarcely lift. 
We soon had thirty thousand men in arms. 
Selected from three hundred thousand more, 
And at their head our noble Washington, 
Chosen Commander-in-Chief. 

Timothy. 

Good news ; what more ? 
John Adams. 
On Lake Champlain, Arnold and Ethan Allen, 
From Vermont, with their brave Green Mountain Boys, 
Surprised Ticonderoga and Crownpoint, 
Seizing their stores of cannon , and supplies — 

Timothy. 
Good, good, ey Deacon, — weR begun half done? 

John Adams. 
And though at Bunker's Hill we failed at first, 
Through lack of powder for our empty guns. 



24 WASHINGTON. 

Yet those few cartridges had burnt so well 
The enemy fell before us in such heaps 
They conqiiered but a fatal victory. 
Then Washington rushed fiercely to the front 
And shelled them from the heights of Dorchester, 
And stormed them out of Boston in hot haste, 
Howe and his veteran array in a mass 
Driven to his ships by Putnam's bayonets. 
Enough — the right is conquering — fare you well. 

Exit John Adams. 

Timothy. 
Well, Deacon Eldad, what say you to this — 
Is well begun, half done? — 

Eldad. 

Nay, Timothy, 
You count the profits only; take your ledger 
And post me up the loss; I wot the loss. 
Could we but count it, balances the gain, 
Ay, much outweighs it, — look you firstly, now — 

Timothy. 
Deacon, I cannot stop; for firstly means 
Secondly, thirdly, and fifteenthly too, — 

Eldad. 

But, Haerlem Heights? Kip's Bay? call you these 

gains. 
Where Washington gave orders to shoot down 
Qur many runaways? Then Hackensack — 



WASHINGTON. 25 

Timothy. 
Croaker! be dumb: or shout at Trenton Falls 
With conquering Washington, Their flags are struck! 
No more. Good den, good Deacon. 

Exit. 

Eldad. 

Well, methinks 
Folks are gone mad, they will not listen to reason; 
The love of liberty hath driven them mad; 
There is some fighting fever in the air 
Tainting us all with a contagious courage : 
I should not wonder now, if Nathan and I 
Were some day found shouldering a firelock too, 
And shouting after General Washington. 



Scene 2. 
A Chamber. Patrich Henrij and Washington. 
Patrick Hexry. 
We can rejoice together. General, 
That our own dear Virginia joined the league, 
Albeit at bloody cost already; — Norfolk, 
That loyal town of i^eaceful homes, burnt down 
By the cold cowardly despot Lord Dun more. 
Who hiding on a man-of-war in the roads 
Dar(3d thus to cannonade us ! — O King George, 
If Caesar had his Brutus, Charles his Cromwell, 
'Twere well you — profited — I say no more — 
By such examples. 



26 WASHINGTON. 



Washington. 

This is saddening news; — 
Friend, I have more to make me sorro\vfiil. 
Kew York is falling away; Connecticut 
Is wearying as half-hearted in the cause, 
Her levies at our need deserting us 
Even by battalions, — they had served their year 
And must get home they say, — let others fight! 

Sir, my soul has groaned, where are the men 
With whom I must defend America? — 

The weight of care lies heavy on my heart 
Shamed by desertions, vexed with meannesses, 
The jealousy of Congress and the taunts 
"•Even of brother soldiers slandering me. 

Patrick Henry. 

1 hear that General Lee has brought a charge 
Of sloth, incompetence, I know not what — 

Washington. 
Sir, the worst afflictions of a man 
Come from false friends, envious competitors 
Whispering detraction in a private sense, 
More than from public foes: I can endure 
Defeat, but not defection; all the toils, 
Perils and open accidents of war. 
But not the secret jealousies of peace. 
They thwart me, doubt me, misinterpret me, 
Maligning all that's done, and left undone. 
r may stand up serene, but feel it still. 



WASHINGTON. 27 

Patrick Henry. 
For climax, Colonel Reed, your secretary. 
Stings you, 'tis said, with slander. 

Washington. 
Yes, — I know it; 
Pass hira; forget it all, I can forgive, 
I will not even let him know I know it: 
Trust me, — and let me drop it lightly thus, 
As not to be down-tilted by a reed. 

Patrick Henry. 
Cheerfully taken : the well balanced mind 
However hemmed by adverse circumstance 
As in a labyrinth of cactus hedges 
Is always happy in itself, at peace 
And ready thus to beat down to its will 
The thorns of still opposing circumstance. 
We count and call you, George, our Fabius, 
Winning by patience what with all your skill, 
With all your courage, hangs still in the balance 
Unwon, and not to be won, save by waiting: 
In war, in peace, the name of Washington 
Lives in all hearts and dwells upon all tongues, 
At once our Fabius and our Hannibal. 

Washington. 
Peace, friend, no praising ; any speech but that: 
The man who knows himself can bear reproach 
Better than flattery: do I call you flatterer? 
Forgive me this sharp word, dear Patrick Henry, — 



23 WASHINGTON. 

I know your soul sincere: yet, while my thanks 

Are yours for so much love, suffer my foes 

To speak their thoughts of me for good or evil: 

Caesar and Curtius are my teachers here ; 

A man is nothing if he has no foes, 

Nothing, if slander, ridicule, contempt 

Are not the frequent scorpions in his path; 

Can he have lived a life of faithfulness 

Of earnest work for good, and have escaped 

Hatred from wickedness, or scorn from folly? 

No, — there are serpents still hissing before him: 

Let him march on, as duty bids, unf earing, 

And trample out their poison as he goes ; 

Let him march on, heedless of praise and censure, 

Living alone for conscience and for God, 

And he shall make his veriest foes his friends. 

I have stood up well nigh alone thou knowest, 

Daring impossibles to save the state, 

That scarce will let me save it; thus I reap 

The tares of slander sown by factious tongues. 

But — I must leave you: I have much to do 

And little time for speech. 



Exit. 



Patrick Henry. 

Farewell, great heart: 
The Saul and the Musajus of our millions. 
A nobler spirit never breathed in man ; 
Thoughtful for others, and forgetting self, 
Dauntless in danger, yet so meek withal; 
Calm amid calumnies, and flatteries; 
Strengthened through failure, humbled by success, 



WASHINGTON. 29 

And full of love for man and trust in God, 

Chivalric wise and pious and serene, 

The pinnacle of human excellence. 

Yes, — I have noted him from earliest youth 

And marvelled to what great and lofty ends 

The hand of Providence was training him. 

He was our Moses in the W'ilderness 

Inured to savage warfare, and prepared 

Through perils multitudinous to lead 

This people to their Canaan of the West: 

And when INIonongahela's bloody swamp 

Proved gallant Braddock's grave, young Washington 

Screened by the Manitou himself , they said, 

Alone stood victor on that fatal field ; 

And ever since the same impetuous soul , 

Calm, truthful, bold, upright, and self-reliant, 

That dwells within his tall athletic frame 

Has marked him out to all a chief of men 

Fitted and trained to his high destiny, 

The first in peace and war, first everywhere, 

First in the hearts of all hh country men. 

Exit 



Scene 3. — A Street in Baltimore. 

Enter Timothy, Rachel, and Nathan; then Frank- 
lin. 

Timothy. 
It was a day of days, I promise you, 
A sight of sights, our Yankee flag's new birth, 
At Boston, Dorchester heights, on New Year's Day. 



30 WASHINGTON. 

Rachel. 
Yankee — why Yankee ? 

Timothy. 
Yenghees, Redman English. 

Rachel. 

But we're not English now. 

Timothy. 
Who told you that? 
"We're Greater Britain, England magnified, 
In origin and laws and soul the same. 
What language do you speak? AVho were your 

fathers ? 
What's your religion, if not Protestant ? 
Your books, your liberties, your stalwart force 
Of independent character, all English; 
They fill an island, we a continent; 
We are republicans, they monarchists; 
But our Head IMan looks very like a King, 
And their great Ruler is the sovereign people 1 
The name seems well enough, our Yankee flag. 

Rachel. 

You saw it, Timothy? 

Timothy. 

Yes, girl, at Boston; 
There first was sho-^n that glorious flag unfurled. 



WASHINGTON. 31 

Nathan. 
Yea, friend, I too stood by when they tore down 
The Union Jack of England and flung out 
Those stars and stripes : tell nie why stars and stripes. 

Timothy. 

It's fair enough; they make a pretty show 
Shining and wriggling in the sun like snakes. 

Nathan. 
That's a poor answer: why choose stripes and stars? 

Enter Franklin. 
O here comes one can tell us everything. 
Goodmorrow, brother Franklin : dost thou know. 
And wilt thou say, why they chose stars and stripes? 

Franklin. 
Yes, Nathan, I proposed it to the Congress. 
It was their leader's old crusading blazon, 
Washington's coat, his own heraldic shield. 

Nathan. 
Can this be known? and was it not ambition? 
A Cromwell come again ? 

Franklin. 

Listen, good friends: 
It is not known, and it was not ambition. 
He never heard of it till fixed and done. 
For on the spur, when we must choose a flag, 
Symbolling independent unity, 



32 WASHINGTON. 

AVe, and not he — all was unknown to him — 
Took up his coat of arms, and multiplied 
And magnified it every way to this 
Our glorious national banner. 

Rachel. 

Coat of arms ? 
What was this coat of arms ? 

Franklin. 

I'll tell you, friends. 
I've searched it out and known it for myself, 
When late in England there, at Herald's College, 
And found the Washingtons of Wessyngton 
In County Durham and of Sulgrave Manor 
County Northampton, bore upon their shield 
Three stars atop, two stripes across the field, 
Gules — that is red — on white, and for the crest 
An eagle's head upspringing to the light, 
Its motto, Latin, " Issue proveth acts." 
The architraves at Sulgrave testify. 
As sundry painted windows in the hall 
At Wessyngton, this was their family coat. 
They took it to then* new Virginian home: 
And at Mount Yernon I myself have noted 
An old cast iron scutcheoned chimney-back 
Charged with that heraldiy. 

Timothy. 

Well, this is strange, 
And no one knows it; surely such a relic 
Must soon be cared for, if not worshipped — 



^ 

.% 



WASHINGTON. 33 

Franklin. 

Sir, 
Causes are soon forgotten ; consequents 
Quickly close-shadow them as plants their seeds. 
I wot I am the first to tell you all 
This root and reason for our stars and stripes, 
Washington's heraldry. Farewell. Exit. 

Nathan. 
Farewell, we thank thee. 

Timothy. 

Well, Nathan, this is grand about those stars; 
The stars are now thirteen, each star a state 
And may soon be thrice that, say thirty-nine, 
With " forty stripes, save one," to whip the world 1 
How say you, Quaker friend? 

Nathan. 

Well, I opined 
Friend Franklin must have known; and I perceive 
That eagle's head hath pulled a body out 
Fullfledged as mounting to the higher heaven 
Trailing a mantlet cloud of stars and stripes. 
I am a man of peace, I love not wars; 
Yet w^ere it well that none should strive with me, 
Or touch, unless in love, those stars and stripes. 

Timothy. 

Well said, old Nathan! but we stay too long 
Come to head quarters, — there are all the news. 



34 WASHINGTON. 



ACT in. 

Scene 1. — A Room in Governor Arnold's House, 

at Westj)ohit. 

Arnold, alone. 
They have disgraced me, publicly, condemned me, 
Abused me for the bondage of my debts, 
Charged me with fraud, tried me, and punished me 
The Commandant of Philadelphia 
Who kept such generous state, and at such cost, 
By open shame and formal reprimand 
From Washington's own mouth before the Congi-ess I 
I will not bear it, — I will be revenged. 
What, — had they all so speedily forgotten 
How often I their hero, Benedict Arnold, 
Led them to Victory ? — witness ray great deeds, 
Ticonderoga, Champlain, and Lake George, 
Crownpoint, Quebec, St. John's and Montreal 1 
Testify, Saratoga and my wounds, 
Testify, graceless Philadelphia! 
What? only shame, ruin, ingratitude 
For such exploits — and me f I'll have revenge. 
No longer shall this calm cold Washington, 
This cruel mouthpiece of America, 
Reap what I sow of great and glorious deeds. 
Benedict Arnold shall be bought for gold. 
Seeing they charge him fraudulent for gold; 



WASHINGTON. 35 

Benedict Arnold shall be found a traitor, 

Seeing they dare despise him as a patriot. 

It shall be done, — revenge. IIo, sister, sister ! 

She enters. 
Arnold. 
How ? still in tears, as ever, — since the day 
I bade you think no more of Major Andre: 
Come, cheerily ; I have good news for you, 
I bid you seek him out, and bring him hither. 

Mary. 

joy, O wonder! — but the peril, brother, — 
And why ? O for what cause ? he is thy foe, 
Thou wilt not do him harm ? 

Arnold. 

Tut, silly girl, 

1 beckon him to me to do us good. 

Mary. 

But wherefore ? how ? — and still the peril, brother. 

Arnold. 
There is no peril: I will tell thee how; 
The why is mine own secret: bring him hither, 
Disguised as I shall counsel, at the time, 
And to the place, and in the way I bid you. 

Mary. 

Thy will, my too stern brother, as of old, 
Is for my woman's weakness overstrong; 
I must obey ; yet give one scruple hearing, — 



36 WASHINGTON. 

Is the Why good or evil when replied? 

I seem to feel I dare not yet obey 

If what thou wiliest is — I cannot speak 

What yet is readable from those fierce eyes — 

Is — shall I say? — of ill intent, — my brother. 

Arnold. 
That is my business, child: obey at once : 
Bring Andre here : henceforth he is my friend; 
Fear nothing from my sometime enmity, 
He shall be now my brother as before 
And I will give thee to him as his wife. 

Mary. 

joy, O wonder — yet — 

Arnold. 
Not one M'ord more : 

1 now command : here take him this sealed letter 

Qte lias been icriting mid now seals it) 
Of full particulars for his private eye; 
Mark : not one word to any living soul : 
Silence, and secrecy ; bring Andre here, 
As I have bade him. 

Mary. 

One word, Benedict: 
Rachel, my maid, goes with me : not alone. 
For this would ill become me, — and thy sister ; 
I cannot visit at the camp alone, — 
It were not seemly so, for honour's saket 



WASHINGTON. 37 

Arnold. 
Honour ! both men and women mouth that name 
And mean but seeming by it; seemly, true, 
Honour is nought but seeming; in the dark 
White is as black, and honour just like shame. 
However, be it so: going to the camp 
Seeming must carry it ; take your maid with you ; 
But, not one word that I have sent you both 
Thus to the British quarters ; let her think 
You meet your ancient lover there, and she 
INIay like to find a new one ; not one word 
Of me, or of the letter, or disguise. 

Mary. 

Brother, I go — m fear, and yet — hope, 

O wonder 1 Exit. 

Arnold, alone. 
So, I'll take the enemy's bribe, — 
This welcome thirty thousand offered me 
For yielding up the stronghold in my trust. 
O needful gold, O gladly welcome gold 
More welcome than to pay those shabby debts 
Because it buys me to revenge myself. 
Look out, forsworn America! look out 
Calmvisaged gentlemanly Washington! 
Benedict Arnold shall be master yet 
And none shall steal his honour but himself : 
Benedict Arnold shall achieve the fame 
What though it be — of Judas i — for llevenge ! 

Exit. 



38 WASHINGTON. 

ScEXE 2. — WASiimGTON and Ms wife: letters are 
brought in hj Bishop, who gives him some, and one to 
Martha Washington. 

Martha Washington. 

Another of those wicked letters George, 
From some anonymous slanderer; it says — 

Washington. 
Nay, — good wife, wise wife — heed not what it says; 
Tear it up; if I neither see it nor hear it, 
Calumny, like the scorpion when self -stung, 
Perishes harmlessly: I will not read it. 

Martha Washington. 
But our dear Patrick Henry sends it here 
That you with him may guess or know the writer; 
He fancies him a certain famous Doctor. 

Washington. 
Nonsense; I'll have no fancies. 

Martha Washington. 
But he adds, 
It is important, for a duplicate 
Was laid before the Congress, and it said — 

Washington. 
I care not, Martha, what it said; if Congress 

Is capable of listening secretly 

To taunts against me, I will answer it 

On charges openly brought. 



WASHINGTON. 



Martha Washington. 



Yet, Patrick Henry, 
That friend and brother who is half thy soul, 
Asks me to read you this : ' ' The nation needs 
" A Joshua, not our loitering Fabius, 
"A Conway, Mifflin, Gates, a North, a Lee, 
" And not this vacillating Washington: 
" Under so weak a leader we must perish, 
" Having no chance for victory but in change." 
Dear Patrick haply lets you know of this. 
Suggesting stronger efforts; for he adds, — 
Our friend knows well how wise it is to learn 
Even from foes : I spoke up stoutly for him, 
Urging, and truly, that if he was weak, 
It was in men, in stores, in sinews of war, 
Not m the muscle of his own strong soul; 
If he was lingering to assure great ends 
It was for Congress to ensure full means, — 

Washington. 

He spoke but truth ; there seldom is a slander 
But in some particle was justified. 
Factions and parsimony tie me down. 
Forcing me to delays against my will. 
Enough: let history, and my country's love, 
In spite of whisperers and conspirators, 
Vindicate Washington to after ages. 
Let me hear nothing more of this, dear love. 

(Enter Bishop) 



40 washington. 

Bishop. 

Please you, my master, there's a young man here, 
Timothy Brown, of Boston, asks to see you. 

Washingtox. 
He may come in. 

Enter Tix^iothy. 

Your errand: to the point. 

Timothy. 
General, I want a little word in private. 

Washington. 

Speak it; we are alone: only my wife. 

Timothy. 
I ran down straight from Wostpoint over there 
To tell yom- honour what a friend of mine, 
Miss Arnold's waiting-maid, has overheard 
Her master saymg — 

Washington. 

And you dared to come 
With eavesdroppings to me from a false servant ? 

Martha Washington. 
Yet, hear him, George: speak out, young man, what 
is it? 

Timothy. 

She said, she thought her master was unsafe, — 

Washington. 
You say, she thought; you said, she overheard. 



WASHINGTON. 41 

» 

Timothy. 
She well might think of what she overheard. 

Washington. 
I cannot listen to a treacherous tale : 
Go: and be silent. 

Martha Washington. 

Tell me what it was. 

Timothy. 
She heard him talking of some money-bribe, 
And swearing at his wrongs, and threatening ven- 
geance 
Against America and Washington. 

Washington. 
I'll not believe it! Arnold? General Arnold ? 
Our staunchest patriot since the war began. 
The hero of a hundred well-fought fields, — 
Incredible — impossible. Young man, 
You hope to be rewarded for this tale : 
Leave me; without one word: and take with you 
My stern rebuke for having dared to breathe 
Slander against a noble name. (^Exlt Timothy.) 

Dear v>^ife, 
To prove full confidence, I call with you 
On Governor Arnold at V/estpoint to-pay. 
Bishop, — the saddlehorses in an hour. (Exeunt.') 



42 WASHINGTON. 



Scene 3. — A nan-oio slip of road or lane. Enter at op- 
posite points^ dressed for travel, meeting and passing 
each other, Timothy and Rachel. Theij turn hack, 

Timothy. 
A pretty mess you've got me into, girl, 
By tittletattling. 

Rachel. 
I? whotittletattled? 

Timothy. 
Why, what you told me I have told the General, 
And — 

Rachel. 

So 'twas you that tittletattled, then? 

Timothy. 
Ay, but I only said what I'd been told. 

Rachel. 

And that's the way all gossip gets abroad: 

Master Timothy, I'm ashamed of you 

To charge poor innocent me with tittletattle, 
When you were tittletattling all the while. 

Timothy. 
Well, Rachel, say no more; let us part friends; 

1 got enough, I tell you, from the General, 
"So, make it up; I'm going; just one kiss. 



WASHINGTON. 43 

Rachel. 

One kiss indeed! 

Timothy. 

Then, Rachel, I'll take two! 

Rachel. 

Adone : — Now, Timothy I must be gone, 

My mistress waits; there, — well then I'll forgive you, 

{They kiss again) 
Now don't go tittletattling about me. 

Exeunt opposite. 



Scene 4. — Major Andrews Tent, open in front: lie has 
an order book in his hand. 

Corporal Thompson comes in and says 

Major, a pair of as pretty country girls 
As ever one set eyes on, are along. 
And want to see your honour: shall I say 
Your honour is engaged? 

Andre, aside. 

Engaged? ay, once 
I might have said so ; but that day's gone by. — 
By all means, Corporal, bring them: double luck! 
A pretty couple truly; well, my girls, — 
Enter Mary Arnold and her maid: he starts to see. 
her. 



44 WASHINGTON. 

Andre. 

My beauty! what ? it seems a thousand years 
Since I set eyes on thee: come in, my beauty ! 
By what glad chance is it we meet again? 

Mary. 
My brother Benedict has sent me, John, — 

Andre. 
How? Benedict, — he hates us, hang the rebel I 

Mary. 
Pity him, John; in truth he hates us not, 
He bade me tell you that ho loves you well, 
And all is changed with him, and we may meet 
As freely and as gladly as of yore; 
Here is his letter. 

Andre. 
Stay, — private and secret, — 
Then you know nothing of this note, my pet. 

Mary. 

No, John, — for he looked stern and would not tell 

me, — 
But Rachel here coming along with me 
Has told me something strange she over-heard, — 

(Andre meanwhile is reading the letter — and Cor- 
poral Thompson spealdng with Rachel.) 

Andre. 
So; — he is changed indeed; more luck for us: 
He bids me call and meet him in two hours 



WASHINGTON. 45 

AVith you, and in civilian dress; — as it were 
Your cousin, or your lover, if you will, 
An any dare to ask you, 

Mary. 

But, dear John, 
So loved, so long betrothed, tell me the truth; 
On what strange errand are we bound, and why 
This secrecy, this silence, this disguise. 

Andre. 
Would it be like a soldier's honour, Mary, 
To tell another man's confided secret? 

]\Iary. 

Nay, then, I cannot ask it; yet I fear, — 
My heart misgave me at his strange wild eyes, 
He will not, cannot, dare not harm thee, dearest? 

AXDRE. 

Fear nothing, darling: we will go together, — 
You are my guardian angel, and my strength 
Let it suffice for both — 

But wait awhile, 
It is so long since you and I looked love, 
I cannot spare those glances yet, my beauty. 
So, we shall soon be married? Blush again, — 
You look so pretty: bid yon maid of yours 
Go for a walk with Corporal Thompson there, 
They seem already to have had much to say, — 
And stay with me awhile, my pretty one — 



46 WASHINGTON. 

Mauy. 

John — I dare not say. — No ! Major Andre, — 
It were too sweet and perilous a joy 

To stop one moment longer, — fare thee well: 

1 and my maid must leave at once: that letter 
Tells all my brother's mind; I know not aught: 
Farewell, — no more — we meet at Benedict's. 

(Exit.) 
Andre. 

Gone ! like a flash of joy and love and beauty 1 

Well, well; fortune of war: look at this life, 

What a continual shift of scenes it is, 

Sunshine and storm and good and evil mingled: 

And here's a sudden change in that strange man 

My would-be brother both in law and arms : 

What can it mean ? — That he has been disgraced, 

Is deep in debt, and hates George Washington, 

All this he tells me straight ; and more, he writes 

That for a good round sum, say forty thousand. 

He, their last brigadier, and commandant 

Of their stronghold on the Hudson at Westpoint, 

AVill give it up to Clinton with all stores 

And guns and arms and garrison complete, 

An easy netful, j^risoners of war ! 

This is too good to be true ; here. Corporal Thompson, 

I'm going on private business to New York 

As a civilian, not in uniform : 

No one need know it. By the way, Corporal, 

Did those red lips you seemed so taken with 

Tell you upon what possible errand came 

Her mistress to my quarters. 



WASHINGTON. 47 

Corporal. 

Kever a word : 
We did but guess your honour's liking to her. 

AXDRE. 

Not a bad guess. — I'm gone for half an hour : 
Bring me those clothes for change outside the lines. 

(Exit.) 
Corporal. 

As if I couldn't guess more truths than one; 

As if that little vixen didn't guess, 

As if she didn't whisper all she guessed : 

Well, — since the Major is no friend of mine 

(I had been sergeant but he keeps me servant) 

Let him look out: if money's to be got 

I'll try to touch some too; master and man 

Poor Richard calls them kin ! — ay and he says 

Forewarned, forearmed: Should General Washington 

Hear from me of my Major and his friend. 

I'd get a bag o' guineas for my news. 

(Exit.) 



Scene 5. — Washington's Quarters. Aides-de-Camp and 
Orderlies go in and out : he at a desk with papers. 

Washington. 
Take this despatch with speed to General Greene. 
Send General Prescott here. 



48 WASHINGTON. 

Your horse, can gallop, 
Bid General Sullivan bring his forces up 
With his best speed. 

This goes to General Morgan, 
I want his rifles quickly to the front. 
This to Westpoint. Less hurry, but due care. 

The Aide, young Custiss, to whom he gives it, says 
My General, was that true ? 

Wasiiixgtox. 

AYretchedly true ; 
I went myself to the fortress ; they had fled, 
That traitor and that spy; the first escaped 
On board a British gunboat in the Hudson, 
The other, caught with maps and plans upon him. 
Has been condemned to death : a drum-courtmartial 
Sentence him to be hanged, — hanged as a sj)y. 

Bishop. 

Can Master speak with a petitioner ? 

Washingtox. 
I am engaged : upon what matter ? urgent ? 

Bishop. 
She says, on life or death. 

Washixgtox. 

A woman then? 
Orderly. 

Yes, General, she would not be. denied. 

Assured that you would speak with Mary Arnold. 



washington. 49 

Washington. 

The traitor's sister! O the bitter pang 
That I have lived to call my lifelong friend, 
Brother of my first love, as boy and girl, 
My lowland beauty of those halcyon days, 
A Traitor blackest dyed. 

{To Bishop.) 
Let her come in. 
Aside. She cannot yet have heard of his escape, 
And comes to plead for him: it will be pleasure 
However mixed with pain, to let her know 
He got off in the Vulture. Franklin says 
There is a spot of calm centering the midst 
Of the most furious hurricane ; these toils 
And cares of war still find a heart of peace 
Serene and quiet in their whirl; — 

To his Orderlies^ Sfc. 
One moment, 
Give space, and leave me : in the corridor 
Be ready to my call. Speed these despatches : 

he gives a second batch, 
I will give audience to this lady alone. 
Enter Mary Arnold. 
Washington. 
Well, Mary Arnold ; only two short minutes 
Can these my thousand cares afford : be quick. 

Mary. 
O, Sir, there yet is time, — is there yet time? 
General, by all the love you bore me once 



50 WASHINGTON. 

Spare him, — he must not die, so brave, so yomig, 
So loved, so noble, — say he shall not die ! 

Washington. 

Mary, it is a melancholy pleasure 
To tell thee that he lives, and shall not die, — 
The traitor will not meet his doom, — take comfort, 
Thy brother has escaped. 

Mary. 

O, not my brother I 
I do not plead for him : he is our shame, — 
Myself I could have stabb'd him for his treason ; 
I pray for one less guilty — and more dear — 
Betrayed as you were by that villain Benedict, 
My own betrothed, my all but husband, Andre I 

Washington. 
How? That mean spy thy husband? I had hoped, 
Poor Llary Arnold, to have gladdened thee, 
My unknown passionflower of hot sixteen, 
For sake of all the past, by the true news 
That thy bad brother saves his shameful life : 
But this unworthy plea for Major Andre 
Cannot be heard one moment : — he must die. 

Mary. 

Not yet, not yet I O spare that precious life I 

Washington. 
The spy by all our laws of war must die, 
And fourteen officers, the court of trial, 



WASHINGTON. 51 

Have given unanimous vote that he be hanged. 
I cannot help the matter if I would : 
Justice commands and policy commends 
No death less utterly shameful for a spy. 

Mary. 

Yet spare, if not his life, at least his honour. 

Washington. 
Honour ? what honour is there in a spy ? 

Mary. 

In some sort it was duty, — he w'as betrayed, — 
He looked for better ends to those worse means ; 
The way seemed crooked, but the goal was straight, — 

Washington. 
Those wlio do ill that good may come, poor pleader, 
Are caught in their own toils, and swiftly earn 
Fit payment for such tortuous policy. 
Enough. I cannot hear one word. Farewell. 
However I may pity him, or thee. 
And with whatever sorrow for his doom, 
He dies ! a terrible warning, gibbeted 
On AYestpoint battlements. 

She swoons away, he summons the attendants, and the Act 
ends. 



52 WASHINGTON. 



ACT IV. 

Scene 1. — Washington's Camp at Valley Forge: 
he lies on a couch sick of a fever^ tended hy his ici/e, 
and by Bishop, his bodyservant. 

Washington. 
How my poor soldiers must be suffering, wife, 
In this hard winter, — shame upon the Congress 
That their conflicting factious jealousies 
Leave these true patriots perishing of cold 
And hunger and disease, unshod, ill clad. 
Watching on cold bleak ice-fringed river banks. 
Sleeping in snow-wreaths, naked and half starved, 
Destitute in this agueish fever swamp ! 
Yet is their spirit unbroken, — gallant hearts, — 
And still they stand with me for liberty. 
O wife, it is not on the battle-field 
With all its thrilling energetic joys 
Where the hotblooded wound is never felt 
Nor known until it stiffens and is sore, 
But in the weary noisome hospital 
The soldier is most tried ; there is his patience, 
There is his grandest calmest courage seen, — 
More truly even than at Trenton Falls 
Where we joined battle with those furious Hessians. 



WASHINGTON. 53 

Good wife, you have been the rounds : how fare they 

all, 
My noble poor sick fellows ? 

Martha Washington. 

The reports 
Are better, dearest George, — and I myself 
Have tended many of them, as they lay there 
Fevered with wounds, or fainting from disease: 
And how they blessed me, ev'n unworthy me. 
While I pass'd on between those squalid litters 
Dropping the smile of hope, the look of love, 
The word of faith in prayer ! Husband, we know 
There is a force more potent than all drugs 
In faithful, earnest, and affectionate prayer. 

Washington. 
The best of remedies, in all men's reach: 
How often has its potency sufficed 
To cure my sharpest pains, most aching cares. 
Well may we praise for having leave to pray. 

Martha Washington. 
Now; — now I am come back to be your nurse, 
T cannot let you talk, — it is high time 
To take this sleeping draught; and-^I must urge 
The doctor's orders, — quiet. 

Bishop comes in and says^ 
Please you, my Master, there's a woman here, 
I'd said a madwoman, would speak with you. 
She says her name is Arnold, and her errand 
One word alone, — only one word, she says. 



54 WASHINGTON. 

Washington. 

Arnold ? — his sister again ? can it then be 
That double traitor thinks to serve himself 
By some new treachery ? — I abhor ill means ; 
Hands foul as his shall never help my country: 
Yet, hapless Mary Arnold, I will see her, 
If only to show kindness and forgive, 
As sick men should ; she too may well forgive 
What duty, painful duty, forced me to, 
Hanging her paramour, that wretched spy. 

To Bishop. 
Let her come in. 

Martha Washington. 

Kow husband, be advised, 
You can see no one yet; the ague fit 
Will soon be on you, dearest, — say not yet. 

Washington. 

I feel yom' faithful love, and love you for it; 
But let it be: 

To Bishop. 
She may come in. 

Enter Mary Arnold, in deep mourning^ cloaked, 

Mary. 

Alone, — 
I said — alone, only one vrord, alone. 
General, I have a message to deliver, 
But we must be alone. 



washington. 55 

Washington. 

None but my wife, 
My angel always watching over me, 
The more that I am sick and weak. 

Mary. 

His wife ! 
Alone, I prayed only one word alone ! 

aside. And yet, O chance ! O joy ! that she shall see 
it! 

Martha Washington. 
I will not leave my husband, — George, be still, — 
No, stay here with liis Excellency, Bishop; — 
Lady, I speak for him, and I will hear you. 
What is your errand ? you look wildly on him : 
Stand further; — not so near: — can she be mad? 

Mary Arnold. 
I have a message to him from the dead 
[Fail not, my hand! be swift and sure nay purpose !] 
And if not quite alone — it is enough — 
This message to his heart ! 

(^SJie rushes to stab him.') 

(Martha Washington and Bishop struggle with her 
and disarm her.) 

Martha Washington. 
Hold her back. Bishop! cruel, murderous wretch, — 
Why strike so fiercely at this most precious life ? 



56 WASHINGTON. 

Mary Arnold. 
In fierce revenge for a most precious life ! 

that I liad another dagger here ! 
Unhand me ! let me go ! I must away ! 

WAsniXGTOX, rising. 
Let her escape, poor soul ! she cannot harm me: 

1 will be still, dear wife. Take her away (to Bishop) ^ 
See to her safety well beyond the lines. 

Let no one know of this, I charge you both; 
Be silent and be faithful: if the camp 
Heard of her coming, 'twas some madwoman: 
Let no one guess her name, or her intent. 

(They go out.) 
Dear wife, I praise the Overruling Power 
That every inch and instant guideth us: 
The merest seeming accident is of Him, — 
Even the fiercest storms are in His hand; 
Let us walk straightway on the path of duty 
Trusting in God, no shot or shell can strike us, 
No poison sap our life, no murderous steel 
Summon us to His throne before our time, — 
Quifit? — I will be quiet, dear, dear wife. 

(Sits down) 
Martha Washington. 

Here, slumber awhile, — thy head upon my breast; 
I trust this fright has scattered away the fit. 
Kest thee : no sleeping draught ? well — 

Washington. 

Precious wife, 
I will be quiet; yet it calms me more 



WASHINGTON. 57 

To speak than to be silent: that poor woman 
[God show more mercy to her than man has shown !] 
Let none attempt to seize or punish her. 
If you forgive her, it will cheer my sadness. 

Martha Washington. 

For thy sake, at thy word, but only so, — 
Be it, — that I forgive her; yet my husband, 
Think what America had lost in thee 
If that mad wretch had murdered Washington! 

Washington. 

Heaven ordered otherwise: all is guided weU: 

Still are my fortunes and America's 

Now at their lowest: I am sad, dear wife; 

It is a bitter season now for me ; 

Both foes and friends malign me ; General Gates 

Whose triumph northward I have helped so well. 

Has turned to be my rival, not my colleague: 

I battle on, but under cloudy skies; 

And in these dreary swamps of Delaware 

Hope grows heartsick: well, even at the worst 

With all else failure, at our bitterest need. 

May Heaven's High Providence yet grant Success ! 

{An Orderly comes in.) 

Orderly. 

General, a well attended gentleman 

Lately from France, the Marquis of La Fayette, 

Craves audience. 



58 WASHINGTON. 

Washington. 

Let him come in. 

(he rises. 
I thank my God ! 
Scarce can we breathe a prayer, He answereth us: 
Herein I hail the dawn of brighter things, 
France and America in glad alliance ! 

(They come in.) 
I bid you welcome, Sirs; yet you may see 
How woefully we speed here in these marshes. 
Not but that hope is ours, hope, no despair. 
But stout determined courage and endurance 
Yea to the end, Triumph and good success 1 

La Fayette. 
Your Excellency, let a fervent heart 
Bring sunshine to your quarters Mdth good news, 
France sends a fleet and army on your side 
Standing for you and liberty : these friends, 
Admiral De Grasse, St. Simon, Rochambeau, 
Haste here to cheer you. 

Washington. 

Thanks, good gentlemen ; 
From my poor country, thanks ; from this dear wife 
[My brave companion greets you courteously] 
And from my humbler self, thanks, gentlemen. 
Indeed the dawn is breaking while we speak, 
The darkness vanishes, mists melt away ; 
I see new hopes, like distant hilltops bright 
As with the morning sun, — America 



WASHINGTON. 59 

Yet, yet, thou shalt be Free ; that happy thought 
Glows at my heart, and fills it with new power, 
Liberty smiling on this golden hour ! 

They go out together. 



Scene 2. — Changes to a Street in Baltimore. 

A croii'd of recruits come in, armed variously and with 
the national Jlag ; among them Eldad and Nathan, with 
muskets and ridiculous attempts at uniform, spectacled, 

src. 

Opposite, enter Timothy. 

Timothy. 
Can I believe my eyes ? Why, Deacon, Deacon, 
Do I see straight that this is you, — and Nathan ? 
Dear simple souls, how got you in this guise ? 

Nathan. 
I do opine this is myself — and Eldad ; 
Touching the firelocks, good Timothy, 
I trow we somehow manage shouldering them 
But as to loading them, or drawing trigger — 

Eldad. 

Verily, neighbour, we were forced to come, 
That is, we liked not to be left behind 
When everyone was mustering to the war 



60 WASHINGTON. 

With guns and swords, and scythes and pitchforks too, 
Saying they had caught the British in a trap 
Down south at York Town, — much as with Burgoyne 
Up north at Saratoga, Gage at Boston, 
And divers other pitfalls — 

Timothy. 

Deacon Eldad, — 
Come to the point — you are the text, not others. 

Eldad. 

As I was just expounding, we were forced, 
Nathan and I — not to be left behind. 
For all the folk were pressing hitherward, 
And the whole country, like a swarm of ants, 
Is black and red and blue and white with life, 
Horsemen and footmen, cannon, carts, and stores, 
All to one point converging in such streams 
We couldn't help but come, — ey, brotlier Xathan ? 

Nathan. 

Speak for thyself : I could, but would not, help it, — 

What stirred me up in spirit was the shame 

That mercenary Hessians should be here 

Killing and burning ; so I asked myself, 

Nathan, shall such things be, — Nathan said Nay, — 

And forthwith did I buy me this good gim ; 

If any friend will show me how to load it, 

I'U dare to pull that trigger on a Hessian ! 



WASHINGTON. 61 

Timothy. 
Bravo, my gallant Quaker ! here's a change, — 
The patriot flame flashes from heart to heart 
Till even the coldest feels that glorious heat I 
None can escape the wholesome happy fever. 

(to the recruits) 
What say you, countrymen, — are you prepared 
To fight to the last gasp for liberty ? 

(they shout) 
Ay, ay. All of us, every man of us ! 

Timothy. 
Then come along in line — I'll be your serjeant, 
Company ! atten-shun ! — right about face I 
Step, left foot forward, maarch! (tJi^U (jo out.) 

I'll teach you, Nathan, 
The drill of that same rifle, come with me ; 
As for you, Deacon El dad — 

(Nathan and Timothy go out.) 

Eldad, alone. 
As for me, 
I daren't be left behind, good Timotliy, 
I'll make what speed I can, for firstly, I — 

(looking round and finding himself alone, he 
limps after them icith all speed.) 
I should have told him of my rheumatism ! — 

Exit. 



62 WASHINGTON. 



ACT Y. 

J'he lines near York Town, WasJdngton and Staff, Sfc. 

John Adams. 
The lion is in your toils at last then, General. 
After his raid upon the Carolines 
And through Virginia, Greene has hunted him, 
And Morgan driven him hard and hemmed him in 
To this peninsula between two rivers, 
The York and the James ; he has no chance of escape; 
For Count De Grasse blockades him from the sea, 
And Rochambeau pushes him on the left. 
Your veteran levies close upon his right, 
The country up in arms is crowded round him, 
Our parallels and trenches block him in, 
The cannons battering him on every side, — 
He must surrender. 

Washington. 

Yes, comrade and statesman, 
My brother in the council and the field, 
The Lord Cornwallis with seven thousand men. 
Surrounded by our forces and shut up 
Helplessly here in York Town, must surrender. 
All day, all night, our murderous batteries 
Have shattered his defences, and he must 
Either be butchered there, or lower his flag. 



WASHINGTON. 63 

The God of Christian battles is jio Moloch: 

The less of carnage in a victory 

The more of glory. Could he but surrender, 

He should have honourable terms: his ships 

Lie out at sea beyond De Grasse's fleet; 

Would he were safe on board them, homeward bound, 

Leaving us free and independent ! — Schuyler, 

Go up to York Town with a flag of truce 

And say that in America's great name 

And for the cause of just humanity, 

Washington offers terms; the Lord Cornwallis 

In token of submission yields his sword; 

All other ofiicers and men retain 

Their arms and colours, — cased and not unfurled — 

Save a few standards left for trophy here, — 

They leave their guns and stores, but for all else 

They may march out paroled, with honours of war. 

La Fayette. 

Are not these terms, forgive me, General, 
Too easy for a foe so crushed and fallen? 

Washingtox. 
Nay, noble friend ! because he is so crushed 
It well becomes us to deal generously 
And gently with him : more than this, dear Marquis, 
I cannot wish to trample down in shame 
The honour of my whilome countiy England; 
Yea, could I claim disgraceful terms, I know 
That not one man of all the thousands there 
But would be blown to pieces where he stood 



64 WASHINGTON. 

Rather than yield to terms not honourable. 

An Englishman will render up his life, 

But not his honour. Therefore General Schuyler, 

Go with these terms to liork Town. 

(Jie goes.) 
Gallant Marquis, 
TVe owe so much to you and to your country 
That I shall ask you to receive the sword 
Of Lord Cornwallis ; haply all the fitter 
For that he once scoffed at your beardless youth, 
Goliath-like with David. Take this honour. 

La Fayette. 
No, General Washington, the right is yours; 
On your own soil a conquering patriot 
You must be first in peace as first in war: 
I j)ray your Excellency,* conclude this triumph. 

Washington. 
Thou noble nature ! — yet, one better thought; 
It happened that at Charleston General Lincoln 
Lately gave up his sword to Lord Cornwallis; 
I trust your courteous heart discerns his right 
(Since your own modesty renounces it) 
To reap as thus his honourable revenge, 
By standing in my stead: when all is done, 
Let Lincoln for America take the sword. 

Franklin. 
Ever unselfish ! like Geoi^e Washington ! 
Loolc: General Schuyler, just as he set out. 



WASHINGTON. 65 

Has met the enemy's counter flag of truce, 
Asking for terms ! O happy interchange, 
If righteousness and peace can kiss each other, 
And England and America be one 
Through Washington their bond of unity! 

John Adams. 
Has the Chief heard how dangerously lies sick 
His gallent stepson Custiss in the trenches? 

Washington. 
I know it, sadly; fever, — nigh unto death; 
So closely sorrow cuts the heels of joy. 
I came here from him straight, returning straightway; 
Meanwhile his mother and our skilful friend 
The good physician Craik, watch by the couch. 
I trust in heaven to guide us all for the best. 
See to these few last orders. Dear La Fayette, 
Loved by me as a father loves his son. 
When those few trophy standards are brought in 
Accept a pair to take with you to France, 
America's gift of honour; Kochambeau 
And Count La Grasse, and noble Baron Steubel, 
Let each of them receive hke gifts of honour; 
One stack of colours we will keep for home 
To decorate our future Capitol: 
The rest may England, once om- foe, take back. 
Bid General Lincoln, having touched the hilt 
Of Lord Cornwallis's sword, sealing submission, 
Restore it straightway, with due courtesy: 
So would we conquer in all kindliness. 



66 WASHINGTON. 

And now, friends, give me leave to say farewell: 
My work in life is done, my part is played; 
At last, at last, in peace I lay me down 
Wearied of strife and factions : from henceforth 
Like Cincinnatus, at my Sabine farm, 
Treading the tranquil path that leads to Heaven, 
By the Potomac, like its stream, my life 
Shall flow down gently to the sleep of death. 

Patricia Henry. 

No, Sir ! your country cannot spare you yet, 
Obscurely couched on the soft lap of home; 
America has still a thousand needs 
You only can supply: and there be some 
(As Colonel Nicol and the army in mass) 
Already dream to hail you our first King, — 
An you be willing. 

Washington. 

King ? — it cannot be, — 
It must not, shall not be ! I to be KingV 
The army to be tyrant of this people? 
I to be thought so base as to desire 
To trample on my countrymen as King ? 
I hate the very name, the very thought ! 
Some Kings may have been good; but most were evil; 
For rank is as a poison to the man, 
Rotting his virtues by presumptuous pride. 
Ko ! Patrick Henry, we have fouglit too well, 
Too fiercely for an end so low as this. 
The leprous badge of worn-out monarchy, 



WASHINGTON. 67 

Blighting our free America with Kings : — 

Never will I stand other as your chief, 

If chief at all, than plain George Washington, 

Happier to farm afield than fight afield. 

Tell all those flatterers this: no crown for me, 

No puppet pride of rank above my fellows, 

All equals and all freemen, even as I: 

But, if they will so set me in the front 

To stand their servant, ministering the law. 

As the Republic's head and president. 

Simply their President, if the People please. 

But neither Highness, — no, nor Excellency, — 

Well, — I postpone my homely hope of quiet, 

To be your chief in peace as chief in war. 

Yes, and I yet may find anotlier mission, - 

Haply a higher and a wider one; 

Whereby in Heaven's good time, near or far off, 

When stablished liberty is strong in us. 

By me, or my successors, mother and child 

May yet be reconciled, renewing loves. 

For dear to us, in spite of all her faults, 

Is England; and America may hope 

Again to seek and bless her as her child. 

So, hand in hand, like sisters in a ring, 

Kound the whole world shall Britain's colonies, 

Each independent, but united all. 

Even as our own beloved America, 

Gladden with freedom Universal Man. 

END. 



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